The All Nighter
by Lady Liln
Summary: Zoey, Lola and Quinn decide to pull an all-nighter, from dawn till dusk. Secrets will be spilled, fun will be had, and chaos will ensue...a lot can happen in twelve hours. romance, humor, friendship, etc.
1. Chapter 1: Let's Stay Up

**All-Nighter**

**By Ladililn**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Blah blah blah.**

**Okay, so I got this idea from two things: one, the story ****Up All Night**** by I would walk 1000 miles (thanks so much for the inspiration—and people, go check out that fic!). Two, my **_**own**_** experiences with all-nighters, none of which were admittedly as fun as the PCA girls' will be, but memorable experiences nonetheless.**

**Things are pretty random and pointless in the first chapter, and I apologize for that. There will be a plot later on. But I'm trying to be realistic here, and I know what it's like near the beginning of the night at sleepovers—craziness. Randomness. Pointlessness. For now, they're just having fun…but all the sleepover classics (Truth or Dare, pranks, popcorn, etc.…) will come later, along with a healthy dose of romance, comedy, secrets, drama, and…well, you get the point.**

**Also, this is going to follow canon up to Rollercoaster. It won't fit into Chasing Zoey canon. Chase is not yet back.**

**One more thing—for readers of ****Logan's Girlfriend****, I am **_**not**_** giving up on that fic (and for very unlikely readers of ****Stupid Cupid****, I'm not quitting that one either). I'm just taking a little break to work on this one because it came up and bit me on the bum and wouldn't leave me alone. :)**

**-end Author's Note **_**now-**_

**Chapter One/Hour One**

"**Let's Stay Up"**

**Zoey's POV**

**8:00 PM**

Of course, Zoey knew, it was common knowledge that teenagers never got enough sleep. They went to bed too late and got up too early in order to make it to class, where they promptly fell asleep during slideshows.

Zoey knew that a _ton_ of teachers must have complained about the slideshow-sleeping-students for Dean Rivers to do something about it. But do something he did. He announced Sunday that though he couldn't make the students sleep, he could at least try. So, he was experimenting. For one week, starting that night, everyone had to be in their dorm rooms by eight o'clock PM, unless with express written permission that they _needed_ to be elsewhere.

This announcement was met with general outcry, but the Dean stood firm. He refused to listen to the please of students who swore they could _never_ go to bed that early. He told them it was for their own good. And all the next week students were more alert in class than they'd ever been. The Dean was pleased, as Zoey could tell whenever she saw him on campus. Sure, some students would never change, but some learned their lesson and would continue to go to bed earlier long after Sleep Week was over. Sleep Week was even extending into the weekend—the last night was Saturday—so students could catch up on as much sleep as possible.

Which is why it seemed like such a good idea to stay up all night.

Sure, Zoey had had her fair share of sleepovers. When you had two roommates, practically _every_ night was a sleepover. And Zoey had had her late nights, as well.

But she'd never stayed up a full night, from dawn till dusk. Now, however, she would.

Quinn had gotten the idea Wednesday while researching insomnia, and Lola and Zoey had quickly agreed. They planned for it the rest of the week, making lists of snacks to be procured and movies to be rented and activities to be prepared for, researching techniques to keep themselves awake for twelve long hours, choosing the best night to do it and the cutest pajamas to wear, digging out Lola's video camera, assembling together enough makeup and clothes to sustain Fashion Week for a year…

They didn't tell anyone of their plan, not even the guys. They knew Michael, Logan and James would want to join in if they knew, and for the main part Zoey, Lola and Quinn wanted it to be just a girl's night. That wasn't to say the boys wouldn't be getting a surprise visit or two, of course…

In preparation for their twelve-hour no-sleepover, the girls slept in late Saturday and took catnaps throughout the day. So when eight o'clock came and they bid Coco goodnight, the girls were wide awake and ready for their Big Night In.

8:00 PM

Zoey held her breath as she slowly closed the door, hearing the locks click. She turned back to face the room, and Quinn and Lola inside it.

"Are you READY?!" she shrieked. All at once they started jumping up and down, screaming, laughing, and hugging one another.

"Come on, let's change," Zoey said after they hopped and shrieked and laughed their way to Zoey's bed and flopped down on it.

"'Kay," Lola agreed excitedly. Quinn grinned. At this time, the very beginning of their fun, energy was bubbly and infectious.

Zoey quickly changed into her blue silk pajama pants and a white cotton tank top—her best pjs. She brushed out her hair and slipped on her bunny slippers and sat cross-legged on her bed while she waited for the other two.

Soon they were ready, Lola in a cute little yellow nightdress-slip and Quinn in her pink and orange striped pajama shorts and light blue shirt. Lola had put her hair up in a messy chignon, but Quinn left hers exactly as she had been wearing it lately—waving down her back.

"Sleeping bag time," Zoey said, and they instantly picked up their rolled-up sleeping bags from among their pillows; and grabbed some extra blankets and cushions. Lola brought her teddy bear. On the floor of their recently cleaned-and-tidied room they rolled out their sleeping bags in a three-pointed star, so their heads were all facing into a little circle. Lola immediately snuggled down into her sleeping bag. She gathered her pillow in her arms and set her chin on it, lying on her stomach, ready to hunker down for eleven more hours and forty-five more minutes. Zoey grabbed her nail-care kit and sat Indian-style on her sleeping bag.

Quinn went over to the mini fridge and pulled all of their supplies out of it and from on top of it, gathering them into her arms. Her arms were so full of overflowing snacks that she nearly dropped the Doritos on Lola's head before she dumped it all in the middle of the circle.

"Junk food," she announced, then sat on her sleeping bag like Zoey.

"Excellent," Lola said satisfactorily. Zoey rolled her eyes but smiled, and leaned forward to organize the giant pile a little.

"Chips, unmicrowaved microwave popcorn—with plenty of butter and salt—s'more stuff, all kinds of cookies, four kinds of pop, twelve kinds of candy, napkins and a popcorn bowl," Quinn listed. "The ice cream sundae stuff I'm leaving in the cooler for later. But first,"—Zoey swatted Lola's eager hand away from the package of Ding-Dongs—"dinner," Quinn finished. "Sushi Rox take-out, specially ordered for each girl." She grinned as she passed the small cardboard containers out.

"Thanks," Zoey said happily, taking her dinner and a pair of chopsticks from Quinn. "Yum."

For several minutes there was silence, but for the sound of the girls chewing.

"Well," Zoey said eventually. "What do we do now?"

This struck them all as ridiculously funny, considering the many hours that lay ahead of them, and they all burst out laughing. Lola spewed a little Sunkist out of her nose and Quinn inhaled some rice, choking and laughing.

"Ew!" Zoey giggle-shrieked, whipping a napkin at Lola. Quinn's eyes were watering from a combined inability to breathe and uncontrollable laughter.

"Okay, okay," Zoey said, trying to calm down by taking deep breaths. "We're good. We good?"

"Right," Lola giggled. "We're good." She took a bite of sushi, then spoke through her mouthful. "Let's paint our toenails," she suggested.

"All right," Zoey agreed, pulling her nail kit onto her lap. She unzipped the bag and began pulling out tubes and bottles of nail polish. "We have…Orange Crush, Pineapple Berry Splash, Royally Cherry…"

"Are these snow cone flavors or nail polish colors?" Quinn asked with a giggle.

"…Queen's Purple, Cyan Blue, Teal, Aquamarine, Sunny Day, GoodDaySunshine, Glambitious, Blonde Ambition, Peach, Snow White…"

"Oh, just shut up and give me sparkles," Lola cut in.

"Fine," Zoey laughed, dumping the entire contents of the bag into the middle of the circle. "Just grab something, then!" They all did, and after a bit of fighting over who got the Blueberry-Scented Finishing Gloss, they settled down to paint their toenails, focusing all of their attention on not getting any sparkles on their sleeping bags, or worse, the carpet.

"Oh, my God," Lola said ten minutes later, while her toenails were drying and after she had just put the final coat of quick-dry polish on her fingernails for good measure. "We forgot the video camera!"

"I can get it," Zoey offered.

"No, I got this," Lola said, and carefully stood up, touching the wall for support. She shuffled over to her bed, trying to avoid getting any nail polish on the carpet as she walked. She carefully picked the camera up from her bedspread, fumbled it, and saved it just before it hit the ground.

"There we go," she said when she had placed the camera in the circle and sat back down.

"Don't turn it on yet," Zoey warned. "It'd be a very boring first five minutes of our movie if it's just watching our nails dry."

"So let's take pictures!" suggested Quinn, bouncing a little. "My cell has a great camera."

Zoey looked at Lola and shrugged. "Sounds good to me," she said.

"Yeah," Lola said. "More interesting than blowing on my pinky nail."

They spent a very hyperactive ten minutes while their polish dried jumping around the room, on the beds, taking random and silly and fake-modeling pictures. Zoey blasted music from the speakers and they sung along as loudly and badly as they wanted, dancing in front of mirrors and belting into their hairbrushes. And since nobody was allowed out of their rooms, nobody came to tell them to turn it down.

Finally they collapsed back on their sleeping bags, exhausted and breathless with laughter, smeared nail polish all over the room where they had forgotten to be careful.

"Oh, God," Lola laughed. She was looking over Zoey's shoulder as Zoey scrolled through all the crazy pictures they had taken.

"What now?" Quinn asked, turning the video camera on. "It's only been forty-five minutes."

"Seriously?" Lola said with surprise. "Wow. It feels like it's been so much longer!"

"And we've still got eleven hours and fifteen minutes to go!" Zoey said.

"Time'll start to fly…eventually," Quinn said. Zoey shrugged an agreement and started tapping an unopened Pixy Stix against her leg. An impish smile came over her face.

"Let's…" she started to suggest.

"Makeovers!" Lola sang.

"Yes!" Zoey said, springing up. "Exactly." She gave Lola a high five.

"Um," Quinn said, sounding apprehensive. "Do you mean—"

"C'mon!" Lola practically shouted with glee, grabbing Quinn's arm and tugging upwards. "Let's make you look like a supermodel."

"You mean a _clown_?" Quinn said, but allowed herself to be deposited in front of the mirror.

"I swear I won't do that," Lola said seriously, meeting Quinn's eyes in the mirror. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she relented.

"Yay!" Lola squealed, and began brushing Quinn's hair with a paddle-brush. "I love the curls," she mused.

"Yeah, _much_ better than the feathers," Zoey said. "Here." She shoved a copy of _17 Magazine_ into Quinn's lap. "Entertain yourself."

"You know," Quinn remarked as Lola brushed and Zoey sat on the edge of the bed. "The video cam is currently filming the wall."

"Oh, you're right!" Zoey said, rushing to pick it up. "Whoops." She turned it onto her face and smiled. "Hey. I'm Zoey Brooks, and along with my roommates Lola and Quinn, I'm pulling an all-nighter." She winked at the camera and then started laughing at herself. She sounded like a game-show host.

"Film me," Lola said, sticking her tongue out, so Zoey turned the camera onto her.

"Do a dance!" Zoey said. "Sing a song! Be silly! Say something!"

"All right, already," Lola laughed. The three of them joked around with the camera while Lola brushed Quinn's hair till all the snags were long since gone.

"Our movie isn't going to have a plot!" Quinn said, giggling, after Lola finished singing "I'm a Little Teapot" while Zoey zoomed in and out on her as fast as she could.

"Anh, it doesn't need a plot," Lola said dismissively, accidentally bopping Quinn lightly on the head with the brush. "It's a documentary. The plot is having _fun_. Now close your mouth so I can gloss you."

Quinn did as instructed, then looked up, correctly predicting Lola's next instruction as she came forward with the eyeliner.

"Done," Lola pronounced her charge a few minutes later. "Say hello to the world, gorgeous!"

"Hello!" Quinn sang jokingly into the video camera.

"Strike a pose, beautiful!" Zoey said through her giggles. "Fashion show! Model those pajamas!" Obediently, Quinn started walking up and down the room as though it were a catwalk.

And thus, unbeknownst to them, eight fifty-nine turned into nine o'clock. The first hour is always full of anticipation and laughter and energy and plans to play "Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board" next and the feeling that you need to pack everything you can into every second…

But in the second hour, things get a little more organized. Things calm down.


	2. Chapter 2: Movie Time!

**Capitulo Dos for my readers. ;) Thanks so much for the reviews—remember, people, it only takes like 15 seconds to leave a review! –hint, hint-**

**Chapter Two/Hour Two**

"**Movie Time!"**

**Quinn's POV**

**9:00 PM**

"Okay," Lola said, taking a stack of DVDs from her bookshelf and jumping down off her bed. "We've got…Jason Bourne for action, A Walk to Remember, The Notebook, Titanic, and 50 First Dates for sappy-slash-sad romantic chick flicks, Miss Congeniality, Legally Blonde, and Superbad for comedy, Finding Nemo for cuteness, Little Miss Sunshine for indie-ness, and some weird Sci-Fi movie Vince's roommate told me I just _had_ to see."

"Mars Attacks! ?" Quinn said with a shudder, seeing the movie in Lola's hand. "Ugh." She liked Sci-Fi as much as the next girl, but aliens with exploding heads…not her cup of tea.

"Okay, no freaky alien movie," Lola said, tossing that one back on the bed. "So we've got—"

"We know," Zoey said, holding up her hands so Lola wouldn't list them all again. "Put in Jason. We've gotta keep our energy up, not get weepy or spew more pop out of our noses."

"Plus," Quinn said. "Matt Damon."

"'Nuff said," Zoey agreed.

"You've convinced me," Lola said, walking to the DVD player. "Say no more."

"Is it the first, second or third?" Quinn asked as the beginning credits flashed across the TV screen.

"Who knows? Who cares?" Lola said.

"Can you even tell with these things?" Zoey asked. "They all have the same plot…and basically no dialogue. Just a lot of running and shooting and car chases." She pulled the popcorn out of the microwave and poured it into the yellow popcorn bowl.

"Yeah," Quinn sighed. "And a lot of Matt."

"Matt makes these movies worth seeing," Lola agreed, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

They watched the movie for a good ten minutes before they began to get bored and throw popcorn at the screen, yelling various things at the people in the movie.

"You know how all this could be solved?" said Lola. "An atomic bomb."

"Lola!" Zoey hit her friend over the head with a pillow. "Take that back!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Lola said. "Just don't mess up my hair anymore."

Zoey got a devilish look in her eye. Quinn groaned. "Oh, please no…" she said. "Not a pillow fight." How horribly cliché.

Cliché it might have been, but in a few minutes pillows and feathers were flying and Quinn was having a great time being as stereotypical of a girl at a sleepover as you could possibly hope to be.

"Let's put in something else," Zoey suggested when they were all whacked-out, feathers in their hair and the popcorn bowl slightly upset, threatening to spill its sacred contents. Lola's careful brushing of Quinn's hair had all come to ruin with one hit in the head from Zoey's pillow.

"Like what?" Lola asked, blowing a stray hair out of her face.

"We should raid the DVD stash in the lounge," Quinn suggested.

"Well," Lola said thoughtfully, "they do have that new Reese Witherspoon movie."

"With Drew Barrymore!" Quinn added.

"We do love Reese," Zoey said. "Witherspoon, that is." Quinn bit her lip, knowing what Zoey implied.

"And Drew!" Lola said, not noticing the effect Zoey's little joke had on Quinn. "So what are we waiting for?" She walked towards the door.

"Wait!" Zoey threw up her hands like a traffic conductor. "If we're going to go undercover, we should do it the right way."

Lola glanced down at her yellow slip. "No way am I wearing black," she declared.

"Well, take off our slippers, anyway," Zoey said, slipping off her own. "Quinn—do you have your zap watch?"

"Always," Quinn said, holding up her wrist. "Now, it's only nine-twenty, so it won't be completely dark, and there may be people out and about…teachers or rogue students."

"Rouge?" Lola asked confusedly.

"No, rogue, and I'll thank you not to turn into Logan," Zoey said. Quinn winced at this second—and more direct—jab at her boyfriend, but once again Zoey and Lola were oblivious.

"C'mon," Zoey said. She cracked open the door and peered outside, waiting a moment—probably to allow her eyes to adjust to the light. Without realizing it, Quinn held her breath.

"All clear," Zoey whispered. She motioned with her hand for them to follow and then slipped out.

Lola went next, and Quinn followed just behind. The hallway was dim and quiet. Little slivers of light spilled out from beneath a few doors, but most of them were dark. Even as they stood there, Quinn noticed the yellow line of light beneath one door disappear.

Wordlessly, they left their door cracked barely open and tiptoed down the hallway, freezing and running into one another when they heard the slightest creak in the darkness, clapping their hands over their mouths to disguise silent giggles. At last they came to the front door.

"Wow," Lola breathed, looking outside. "It looks so dark and cold."

"Suck it up," Zoey whispered.

"It's only nine twenty-five," Quinn said quietly. "Believe me, it won't be that cold or dark."

"Hi, guysh!"

The three girls jumped and shrieked at the sudden sound from behind. Startled, the cause of their fright shrieked too. Quinn quickly swallowed her scream, as did Zoey—but Lola's well-practiced scream went on and on.

"Lola!" Quinn hissed, clamping her hand over Lola's mouth to shut her up, or at the very least muffle the sound.

"Stacey, please shh," Zoey begged. "You'll wake the entire dorm!"

"Oh, shorry," Stacey said, cutting off her prolonged shriek.

"Duck!" Quinn warned, hearing a sound that may have been the opening of a door. They all dropped to the ground and lay there for several long moments, sharing frantic looks. Quinn could hear Stacey breathing loudly near her ear. The silence stretched on, no more sounds reaching them.

"Okay," Zoey whispered at last, cautiously getting to her feet. "I think we're in the clear."

"What'sh up, guysh?" Stacey sprung up like a jack-in-the-box.

"Shh," Zoey said.

Quinn felt something wet against the palm of her hand, which was still covering Lola's mouth. She yanked her hand off, disgusted.

"Ew!" Lola smirked in a take-that kind of way as Quinn wiped her hand on her pajama shorts.

"Stacey," Lola said in a whisper, now that they were all standing and composed. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Well," Stacey said. "Here on thish planet here? Or here at PChA here? Or here in thish dorm here? Or—"

"Here in this exact spot at this exact moment here," Zoey clarified.

"Oh," Stacey said with her usual excited smile, though it was a little hard to see in the dark. "Well. It'sh short of a long shtory. Shee, it shtarted lasht night when I had a dream that I wash in the Yucatan. Only apparently I got the Yucatan mixched up with the Yukon, becaushe in my dream I wash in Mexshico but there wash shnow and shled dogs and shtuff. Sho anyway, I wash on the beach kisshing Logan when—"

That was it. As there was no handy door to slam in Stacey's face, Quinn settled for reaching forward and pinching Stacey's arm. Stacey fell to the ground with a soft thud. Zoey and Lola stared at Stacey's motionless form for a minute.

"Wow," Lola said eventually. "That was a little harsh."

"Yeah," Zoey whispered. "Was that really necessary?"

Quinn shrugged mercilessly. "She'll recover," she said. "Let's go."

They made it to the spacious and shadowy lounge a minute later without any more unexpected meetings. During the day, the lounge looked open and inviting, but now, with all the lights off, it was cold, unfamiliar and forbidding. Quinn shivered.

"What's _that_?" Quinn heard a faint sound from the corner—like pieces of wood clicking together. Lola, Zoey and Quinn clutched each other. The sound came again.

"What do you think it is?" Zoey whispered.

"I don't know," Lola said. "I'm scared. Let's go back."

"Come on," Zoey said. "Let's go check it out."

Cautiously, they tiptoed over to the corner. As they got closer it became a little less dark and then—

"_Michael_? _Logan_? _James_?!" Zoey said incredulously at her normal volume. The guys looked up.

"Oh, hey guys," Logan said. Michael nodded at them. They got a "S'up?" from James.

Michael, Logan and James were gathered around the pool table, cue sticks in hand. The only light came from the pool table—little lights had been installed on the inside rim, illuminating the surface of the table quite well.

"What are you doing?" Lola asked, looking shocked.

"Playing pool," Michael said in a duh-voice, shooting a ball into a hole. "Like the lights? 'Course," –he glared at Logan—"apparently they're not bright enough to keep _some people_ from nailing me in the gut with his cue stick every two minutes because he 'can't see'."

"But you're supposed to be in bed!" Quinn protested.

"So are you," James pointed out.

"But you're going to get caught!" said Zoey.

"Nah, we're not." Michael brushed the warning off.

"How do you know?" Zoey raised her eyebrows. Lola put her hands on her hips. Quinn crossed her arms.

"Because," Logan said, lining up his shot. "Apparently our dorm advisor is saving up for college." He flicked out with his cue and sunk the ball, then turned to face the girls, propping one hip up so he was half-sitting on the pool table.

"Um, so?"

"So, I contributed to his college fund," Logan shrugged. "One grand and he doesn't even notice us leaving."

"What?!" Zoey said, her mouth dropping open in shock. "You gave your dorm advisor _one thousand dollars_ so the three of you could play pool in the dark for _a week_?"

Logan shrugged again. "Basically, yeah," he said. Quinn rolled her eyes. That was _so_ like Logan.

"So," Michael said as James walked around the table, observing the setup. "What're you guys doing here?"

"Yeah?" said Logan. "I highly doubt Coco is saving up for Yale."

Zoey shifted on her feet. "I—" she said, and Quinn prayed she'd come up with something fast. "We—Lola forgot her purse in here."

"Right," Lola agreed, not missing a beat. "And I didn't want it to get stolen."

"So…you needed the three of you to come get it?" James asked, looking skeptical.

"It's scary in here!" Lola said. "I wasn't about to come alone."

"Right," Logan smirked. "Well, go ahead and look…but it's a bit dark."

Zoey, Lola and Quinn exchanged glances. What to do now? Go looking for a purse they knew wouldn't be there?

"And sunk," James proclaimed. Logan turned. James was straightening up with a satisfied look on his face; the game had been won. Logan scowled.

"Well, then," Michael said, seeing Logan's poutiness and rolling his eyes. "I think we're gonna go to bed. See you girls." He leaned his cue stick against the wall.

"Good luck finding the purse," James said, smiling at Zoey as he switched on a small lamp for them and flipped off the lights on the pool table.

"Yeah, good luck."

Logan was the last to follow his roommates down the hallway. When Zoey and Lola weren't looking, he tossed a grin to Quinn over his shoulder. Childishly, she stuck her tongue out at him. She could hear Logan's faint chuckle as he walked away.

"Come on," Lola sighed, leading the way to the DVD rack and running her finger across the titles. "I don't see it."

"Maybe someone has it checked out," Quinn said.

"Hey, look at this," Lola laughed, pulling one of the DVDs out. "It's one of the movies Logan made of him dancing. Stacey Dillsen must have left it here."

Zoey laughed too. Quinn took the DVD and looked at the cover. Her heart flipped a little as she looked at the picture of Logan smiling up at her. She knew it was silly. She knew he was stupid and self-centered and a jerk. A good-looking jerk, sure, but still—a jerk. Yet…he was _her_ jerk, her lovable idiot.

"Quinn," Zoey said. Quinn looked up. It was obvious from the expressions Zoey and Lola were wearing that this was not the first time they had called her name.

"Mmhm?" she said, trying to look innocent.

"You okay? You seem all zoned out…"

"I'm fine!" Quinn said, her voice maybe a little too high-pitched, as she hastily shoved the DVD back into the rack. "Did we choose a movie?"

"Yeah…" Lola said, still giving her a strange look. "We're taking the _Girly Cow_ season one collection."

"Sounds good," Quinn said automatically. "We should go back."

"Right…"

They didn't take as much care to be quiet and unnoticeable this time, but returned to their dorm with no trouble. The night was growing steadily darker as ten o'clock approached.

Not much more can be said about the rest of their second hour, other than that they laughed and watched pink cartoon cows dance around on the screen of their apple-shaped TV. Popcorn was consumed and more was popped. Words were spoken.

By ten they had seen enough _Girly Cow_ and were ready for something a little more…interesting.


	3. Chapter 3: Prank Hour

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! Remember, it doesn't take much longer to leave a review than it does to put this story on your alerts or favorites or whatever…I swear ;)**

**Okay, this is an **_**insanely**_** long chapter. I'm sorry about that. But seriously, these girls can pack some fun into an hour! There's a lot going on and like I said, it's very long, so (if you can get through it) enjoy!**

**Attention: The girls laugh a lot in this chapter. It may get tiring. You have been warned.**

**Chapter Three/Hour Three**

"**Prank Hour"**

**Lola's POV**

**10:00 PM**

Lola stifled a bored yawn—but _not_, she assured herself, a tired one—as she hit the power button on the remote, causing the TV screen to go black. Silence filled the room with the absence of noise from the television, and she turned too look at her roommates.

"Now what?" she asked. "I don't think I can take any more TV without falling asleep."

"Same here," Quinn agreed, stretching. Zoey wiggled down further into her sleeping bag and popped open a new can of Blix. Then:

"I have an idea," she said, propping herself up on her elbows.

"She has an idea!" Lola exclaimed. "This is good."

"Hallelujah," Quinn said, half-joking.

Zoey reached into the circle and rooted through the junk food, eventually extracting her pink cell phone. She grinned and jerked her head to motion Lola and Quinn forward; they flopped down on their sleeping bags and eagerly leaned in.

Wordlessly, Zoey dialed a number into her cell but shielded the screen from her friends. Lola and Quinn exchanged curious glances.

"_Do your best and leave the rest to me! Leave it all to me…_"

Lola looked around in surprise. That was _her_ ringtone. She scooped her phone up from where it lay by her sleeping bag and looked at it: Zoey was calling. What the heck? She shot Zoey a questioning look but flipped it open.

"What?" she asked, feeling silly for talking into the phone when Zoey was twelve inches away.

"This is Pizza Hut; may I take your order?" Zoey said in a deep voice entirely unlike her own.

Lola couldn't help it. Now that she understood what Zoey was getting at, she squealed loudly into the phone.

"Ow, my ear!" Zoey laughed, snapping her cell shut and ending the connection.

"Prank calls," Lola said excitedly, tossing her phone aside. "Yay!" As an actress, she loved any opportunity to flex her acting muscles; as a teenage girl, she loved bothering people over the phone to the point of insanity.

"So who should we call first?" Quinn asked.

"Gimme that," Lola said, still excited, as she snatched Zoey's phone out of her hand. "I know _exactly_ who we should call."

"Hey!" Zoey protested, staring at her now-empty hand with something akin to indignation. "It was my idea."

"But I'm a better actress," Lola said, punching in numbers rapidly.

"Fine," Zoey said. She rolled her eyes. "But I get second call. And don't forget to star-sixty-nine it, so my name won't show up on Caller ID."

"Deal," Lola said. She cleared a spot in the middle of the circle and placed Zoey's phone there, turning the speaker on. The three girls leaned forward and listened intently to the ringing.

"Dean Rivers' office, secretary speaking, how may I help you?" asked a polite female voice.

"You called Dean Rivers' office?" Quinn mouthed at Lola incredulously.

"Shh!" Zoey hissed, giggling slightly.

"Yes, ma'am," Lola said into the phone, putting on her most professional-and-adult-sounding voice. "I need to speak to the Dean, please."

"One moment." Tinkling elevator music began to come through the phone as they were put on hold.

"What are you going to _say_?" Quinn whispered.

Lola shrugged, feeling giddy. "Improv," she said. Before either of her roommates could respond, the muzak stopped suddenly and a deep male voice answered:

"This is Dean Rivers speaking."

"Why, howdy," Lola said loudly, dropping her businesslike tone in exchange for an exaggerated Texas accent. Zoey and Quinn clapped their hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter.

"Is this the local Pizza Hut?" Lola asked, taking a cue from Zoey's demonstration. She still sounded like she came from a badly-acted Western (Of course, she meant to—she would never act badly unless it was acting. If that made any sense.). She didn't give the Dean any time to respond before continuing, "I'll have fourteen deep-dished pizzas with ev'rything on 'em, and twenty bottles of Coke. Ev'rything 'cept anchovies, that is, 'cause anchovies give me indigestion—if ya know what I mean."

"Ma'am," the Dean tried to cut in. "I'm afraid this isn—"

"Could you add extra cheese, please?" Lola overstressed the words 'cheese' and 'please', sending Quinn and Zoey into paroxysms of giggles. "I do love myself some good ol' cheese. Why, I was sayin' to my cows jus' the other day, I was sayin', 'Now y'all listen real good, ya hear, 'cause I don't got no time to be a-wastin'—"

Zoey and Quinn grabbed pillows and buried their faces in them to muffle their laughter.

"Madam," the Dean said, sounding slightly irritated. "This is not—"

"'Y'all'd better produce some dang good cheese', I said, ''cause what's a farm without some decent dairy, ya know?"

"I'm afraid you have the wrong number," the Dean said, now sounding definitely annoyed. But Lola wasn't done yet…

"Anywho, do you have Orange Blix down there? 'Cause here we only got the stinky red kind, and I was sayin' to my sister jus' yesterday, I said—"

"You have the wrong number!" This is _not_ Pizza Hut! I will hang up now!" the Dean basically exploded. Lola couldn't see his face, obviously, but she had a feeling it was bright red.

"Wait—what?" Lola said. "Hang up? No! Don't do that! This ain't the Pizza Hut, you say? Well why in cacti's name didn't you say so in the first place? And you don't needa be so rude 'bout it, neither, not when a girl's made an honest mistake—"

"Ma'am," Dean Rivers said tiredly. Suddenly Lola switched back to businesslike.

"This is Pizza Hut, Tracey speaking, may I take your order?" she asked.

"I—what—" the Dean stammered. Annnnnd…dial tone.

As soon as the Dean hung up, the three girls let loose with their laughter. Gasping for air, they laughed till their sides hurt and their faces ached.

"Oh…my…God," Quinn gasped out, clutching her stomach and rocking back and forth. Lola grinned. Done, done and done. Success.

They shared a round of high fives, then took deep breaths to recover.

"How did you even know Dean Rivers' number?" Quinn asked.

"I never reveal my sources," Lola said with a grin. Well, _that_ answer sounded much more mysterious than the plain and boring truth.

"Okay, my turn," Zoey said, taking the phone and scrolling through her contacts. She put the phone back in the circle and again, they all leaned forward to listen.

"Hello?" The voice of the person who picked up at the other end of the line was slightly garbled, not from sleep but from a full mouth.

"Is this _Coco Wexler_?!" Zoey asked in a boisterous voice.

"Yeah, whaddaya want?" Coco said, chewing noisily into the phone.

"Congratulationnnnnnnns!" Zoey sang into the phone. Lola had to give her credit—Zoey said it so convincingly that Lola half-expected confetti to come raining down from the ceiling. "Youuuuuuuuu've just won a full year's supply of RAVIOLI!"

"What?!" From the sound of it, Coco had spit out whatever she was eating—most likely ravioli—at the news. Lola felt rather like she had accidentallyh inhaled some of the breath spray Quinn had once invented (though of course Quinn had eventually solved that particular side effect, and added something to the solution that cured snoring (though did not, thankfully, stimulate hair growth)), she was laughing so hard—but completely silently.

"Thaaaaaaat's right!" Zoey said, sounding like an overly enthusiastic announcer on an infomercial. "You just need to give me your credit card _and_ social security numbers and the ravioli is yours yours yours—free!"

"Sure!" Coco said, her voice brimming with excitement. "Just hold on."

Quinn's eyebrows shot up on her forehead. Lola's jaw dropped. Wow. Coco sure was susceptible to fraud…

"Um, nevermind," Zoey said quickly, most likely not wanting to get sued. "Just…run outside! The truck should be pulling up any minute!"

"Okay!" Coco said happily. The girls heard a door slam, both through the phone and outside of their room.

"Look outside!" Lola said, getting off of her sleeping bag and rushing to the window. Quinn flipped on a small lamp and turned off the main light. She and Zoey quickly joined Lola at the window. Their eyes took a second to adjust as they peered out, but soon they could see a shadowy figure run outside and stop on the curb, shifting from foot to foot as though unable to contain excitement.

"Oh my God!" Zoey said, laughing. "Look!"

"Coco waiting for the ravioli truck," Quinn confirmed. Even she, Lola noticed, who was usually a wee bit nicer to Coco than Zoey or Lola—well, nicer than Lola, anyway—couldn't help but laugh at Coco's situation.

"What?" Coco's voice said through the phone. "Sorry, you say something?"

"Uh, no!" Zoey said into the cell. "Bye!"

"She's still standing there!"

Actually, Coco continued to wait on the curb for several more minutes before the girls got bored and returned to their sleeping bags to eat popcorn.

"All right," Quinn said, crunching noisily. "My turn."

"Who're you going to call?" Zoey asked, handing her cell over.

"You'll see," Quinn said with a mischievous smile. They followed the same procedure as the last two times, then listened as the phone gave several long rings.

"Did he turn his phone off?" Quinn wondered aloud. Lola and Zoey still didn't know who she was talking about, until they heard Michael say groggily, "'Lo?"

"Hola, señor! Puedo ir al baño, por favor?"

"I…wha'?" Michael said, sounding like he had just woken up (which most likely the case).

"Señor! Tu eres entupido? Te nombre eres Tonto!"

"Ay caramba!" Zoey whispered. She and Lola clutched each other amidst their giggles.

"Listen," Michael said, half-whispering. "I don't speak French, and I'm _trying_ to sleep!"

"French?" Lola mouthed to Zoey. She shook her head. Oh, Michael…

"Yo no encontré mi madre! Ayúdame! Mi falda es no aquí! Ay Dios míos!" Quinn said, spewing out Spanish words faster than Lola could keep up with them. Of course, that may have been because she couldn't speak Spanish, either (but at least could recognize he difference between that and French).

"Lady," Michael said. "I don't know what you're saying. I…how did you get this number?"

"Este numero? En el baño, naturalmente. Yo no puedo hablar en alemán. Tienes ropa interior?"

"No!" Michael said, sounding frustrated. His voice was getting louder and louder. "I think you have the wrong number. I'm going to hang up now, okay?"

"Mi hermana es muy caliente! Jugaba con Power Rangers!"

"I—what—don't you kn—have y—UGH!" Dial tone.

"This is too much fun," Lola gushed as they fought their way out of laughter again. "Just one more."

"Three more!" Zoey said, tossing Lola the cell. Lola grinned.

Only two rings, this time, before a chipper voice answered:

"Shtacey Dillshen shpeaking!"

"Hello?" Lola said, pinching her nose between her fingers so her voice came out whiny and nasal.

"Hello!" Stacey said. "Who ish thish?"

"This is Ramona Bixby from the Federal Bureau of Cotton Swabs, also known as Q-tips, aka the FBCSQT," Lola said. "Have you bought any cotton swabs lately?"

"Oh, yesh! Yesh! I bought onesh with green shtichks on Monday, and on Shunday I ordered a shipment of chyan shwabs, and—"

"Did you buy any of the Special Edition Sparkle Swabs?" Lola asked, knowing full well she had, as Stacey had paraded them proudly around the lounge just the day before.

"Yesh! The Shpecial Edition Shparkle Shwabs for only sheventeen dollarsh and ninety-nine chents!" Stacey said, obviously excited out of her mind to be talking to someone from the 'FBCSQT'.

"We have received word that they may be contaminated," Lola said nasally. "Have by any chance your swabs come into contact with _white glue_?"

"Um," Stacey said. She was starting to sound a little worried. "Yesh? Did you shay contaminated?" Her tone had quickly moved from worried to panicked.

"Please, stay calm," Lola said, allowing a little fake fear to creep into her annoying whine of a voice. "Proceed to the contaminated objects."

"Okay," Stacey said, starting to hyperventilate.

"Please do not touch this highly toxic and dangerous form of waste with your bare skin," Lola instructed. Zoey and Quinn shook with silent laughter.

Stacey gave a yelp that indicated she had indeed touched the 'highly toxic form of waste' before receiving that direction.

"Miss, do you have any socks in the area?"

Shocksh?" Stacey asked, sounding confused and distressed.

"Miss, please just do as you are told. Time is running short and the fire department may not arrive in time if you choose to wait for them."

"Shorry!" Stacey cried. "Shocksh, shocksh, shocksh…gee, it'sh a good thing my roommatesh are shlepping outshide tonight! Again. I guessh they musht really like camping…"

"Miss," Lola said warningly. A cackle escaped Quinn, and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

"Shocksh! Okay, shorry, I've got the shocksh. Now what?"

"Proceed to put the socks on your hands," Lola said. 'Then slowly and carefully pick up the contaminated swabs."

"Are you sure?" Stacey asked fearfully.

"Just do it!" Lola snapped, breaking character. She took a deep breath and pinched her nose again.

"Okay, shorry!" Stacey said, apparently too startled by Lola's outburst (and panicked by the possible inflammation of cottom swabs) to recognize her voice.

"Now, get your swabs out of the building and away from any living creature as soon as possible."

"Right!"

Suddenly, the girls heard an animalistic yell. They rushed to the window just in time to see a giant model-ship made entirely of cotton swabs fly out of a window and through the cold night air, eventually crashing onto Coco's head.

Whoops.

The girls quickly closed the window and shut the blinds, retiring to their sleeping bags.

"Okay, I'm next," Quinn said, grabbing the cell.

"Hey, it's my turn!" Zoey said.

"You can go next," said Quinn. "I just really want to make this call…" She dialed and they waited.

"Hello?" Mark's voice was bored and monotonous, as always, so it was impossible to tell whether he had been sleeping or not. Lola had to wonder why Quinn had dated him for so long. She deserved so much better…and eventually, Lola hoped, she would get it.

"Hello, sir," Quinn said, disguising her voice well (though not as dramatically as they had been the last four calls). "Is this Mark Del Figgalo?"

"Yeah."

"I'm calling from the Pacific Coast Health Care Center. We just wanted to check up on you. How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Pause. "Why?"

"Well, we heard you took a nasty fall today when a sixth-grader ran his bike into you."

Lola snorted. It was true. It was also one of the funnier things she had ever seen. Especially when the tiny sixth-grader got mad at Mark for getting in his way.

"We have the offender in child custody right now," Quinn continued. "He swears he didn't know the punch he dealt you after you ruined his bike was one of the twelve illegal moves, but we are still investigating this claim. If it proves to be true, you may not have to worry, as it is doubtful he knew how to perform the move to its full effect."

There was a long pause while the girls held their breaths. Then came the inevitable: "Illegal move?"

"Oh, you probably don't have to worry," Quinn said airily. "It's been over six hours and you haven't noticed any strange red splotches." She waited a beat. "Have you?"

"Uh…" Mark said. "No. I don't think so."

"They'd be on your lower back," Quinn encouraged.

"Um…" They heard through the phone the unmistakable sound of Mark Del Figgalo walking in tight circles like a dog chasing its tail, attempting to see his lower back. "I can't see…is there a mirror in here?"

"You're probably fine," Quinn assured him in a fake-calm voice. "As long as you're not feeling numb anywhere. Or dizzy. Do you feel dizzy?"

"Yeah…oh, it's getting worse," Mark panted. Lola didn't doubt it—he seemed to be spinning pretty fast.

"Just remain calm. How well can you see?"

"Not great," Mark said, apparently forgetting that this was because it was nighttime and all the lights were off. "What do I do?"

"I'm afraid nothing can be done at this time until we have a fuller assessment of your condition. If you're still functioning properly in twelve hours, we should be able to treat you. In the meantime, try to relax. And whatever you do, don't sweat. Or blink."

"But—" Mark said.

"Bye!" Quinn giggled, and hung up.

"Don't you just love manipulating people?" Lola sighed happily, holding up a hand for Quinn to slap.

"Poor Mark," Zoey laughed. "Do you have any idea how panicked he must be by now?"

"Yup," Quinn said, opening another can of Blix. Lola had to wonder at how completely Quinn had gotten over their breakup three months previously.

"All right, last call…to a Mr. Logan Reese," Zoey said with a positively wicked look in her eyes.

Suddenly Quinn spewed Blix all over her sleeping bag, choking, spluttering, and gasping. Her face was bright red as she coughed, and her eyes watered.

"Quinn!" Zoey said. "Are you okay?"

"Blix go down the wrong pipe?" Lola asked sympathetically.

"Um…yeah," Quinn muttered, still coughing. She grabbed a napkin and took another, more careful, sip of Blix. She cleared her throat and said, "Aren't you guys tired of prank calls? We should do something else."

"Are you kidding me?" Lola asked. "This is fun!"

"Just one more," Zoey promised her, and before Quinn could protest any more, she hit a number on her speed dial and they listened to it ring.

They had to call twice before Logan answered. "Hello?" he muttered into the phone, sounding tired.

"Hey," Zoey said in a low, sultry voice. Lola nearly laughed out loud, but for some reason Quinn was biting her lip and looking anxious.

"Who is this?" Logan asked through a yawn.

"Melanie Coltrane," Zoey purred, naming the 'hottest girl on campus' according to half the male population at PCA. "What's up?"

"Sleep?" Logan said in a voice that suggested he didn't think 'Melanie' was the sharpest tool in the shed.

Zoey gave a tinkling laugh. "You're _so funny_," she said. "And totally hot." Lola mimed sticking a finger down her throat; Zoey nearly cracked up. "I _really_ like you, Logan." Zoey tried to make her voice sound as flirty and sexy as possible. If Lola didn't know it was really Zoey, she might have been convinced it actually _was_ Melanie.

"Yeah, well, a lot of people do," Logan said absently. It was obvious he was more intent on getting back to bed than on this conversation.

Zoey giggled again. Quinn buried her face in her hands, most likely to conceal laughter.

"So," Zoey said, getting so into the act she was actually twirling her hair around her finger and batting her eyelashes. "I was thinking…do you wanna catch a movie tomorrow?"

"Not really."

Well, that was surprising. Lola could tell Zoey was taken aback too, but tried to keep evidence of it out of her voice.

"Or…we could grab some food. Or hang out in my dorm." Zoey layered thick implications on her last suggestion. "I hear you're, like, an _amazing_ kisser."

Quinn made an unidentifiable sound into her pillow. It was probably a laugh, Lola figured.

"Yeah, I am," Logan said calmly. "But no thanks."

Now Lola was just plain confused. This was _not_ the Logan they knew… Suddenly, she realized what must be happening.

"Zoey! Hang up!" she hissed urgently. "Now!"

"What—?" Zoey started to question.

"Now!"

Without another word, Zoey pressed "end" on her phone.

"Okay, what up?" she asked Lola at normal volume.

"I think he knew," Lola said quickly, her words tumbling over each other in their haste to leave her mouth. "That it was us, I mean, or a prank call, anyway. Why else would he not respond to Melanie Coltrane flirting with him?"

"Because maybe he's not interested in Melanie Coltrane?" Quinn guessed. Lola looked at her like she was crazy.

"Right," Zoey said. "Logan not interested in a hot girl. Okay, what have _you_ been drinking?"

"There's no other explanation!" Lola said. "Obviously he knew."

"You're probably right," Zoey sighed, tossing the phone away. "We've run out of people to call anyway."

"So, then," Lola said. "Are you ready for a _real_ prank?"

"Just what would you call what we've just been doing?" Zoey demanded. "Stacey Dillsen threw her cotton swab ship out the window, which landed on Coco who was waiting for a ravioli truck, while Mark does his best not to blink for fear of his deadly disease thingy and Michael dreams in Spanish."

"True," Lola conceded, "but I meant something beyond prank _calls_…like the sort of things students do during Prank Week."

"Oh, stop beating around the bush," Quinn said. "Let's go sabotage the guys!"

It didn't take long for the girls to gather all the supplies they needed, and thus armed, they snuck outside their dorm once again. The night was colder and unmistakably darker than when they had been out last. They tiptoed across the soft grass as quickly as they could, trying not to drop what they were carrying and bemoaning the cool night air.

Eventually they arrived in Maxwell Hall and stood outside the guys' dorm room. In no short order Quinn had picked the lock and they were in.

The room was dark, with the only light coming from the moon filtering in through the window and the faint glow coming from various forms of technology: the red numbers on alarm clocks, slowly blinking lights from computers… The three forms that lay in the beds were breathing deeply, fast asleep once more.

The girls moved like a well-oiled machine, each silently moving to complete the task they had assigned themselves on the way over. Zoey began to TP the room and its occupants, flinging around toilet paper as though she was trying to create the illusion everything was covered in a blanket of snow. Quinn opened her toolbox and got to work rigging the electrical system to do what she pleased.

Lola started her sabotaging by taking out a bottle of shaving cream. Carefully, she squirted a dollop of cream into Michael's hand, then tickled his nose with a feather. Unconsciously, Michael reached up to his face and covered himself with whipped cream.

One down, two to go. Logan would be easy…though a bit ridiculous. It didn't take long to sprinkle just enough baby powder into his curly hair so that the next time he looked in the mirror, he would immediately get the impression he had dandruff galore. Usually it wouldn't have been that great of a prank, but Lola knew how Logan was about his hair…

Feeling like Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap, Lola next got out a tube of red lipstick and turned James into a canvas. She painted a giant "L" on his forehead and precisely wrote in large letters on his chest, "Property of Zoey Brooks". To complete the look, she over-applied the lipstick to his actual lips.

It wasn't hard to write "SIKE!" in capital letters using various makeup supplies on both the window and mirror, and Lola finished her job just as Zoey and Quinn were finishing theirs. They met in the middle of the room for a quick and whispered reconnaissance meeting.

"I rigged the alarm clocks to go off on high volume when the lights go on," Quinn told them, "and I disabled the snooze and off buttons. I replaced the light bulbs with high-voltage bulbs that should practically blind them for about thirty seconds. And…" she grinned, and pointed towards the guys' beds. "Cameras rigged too, to capture and record nice live videos of their lovely, blinded, makeup-covered selves and email them straight to my laptop. We'll be able to see the results of our genius as soon as we get back to our room."

Zoey and Lola laughed quietly in appreciation.

"Then I guess our work here is done," Zoey whispered. "We just have to put Vaseline on the door handle so they won't get out so easily and we're good to go."

They opened the door before spreading an ample amount of the greasy solution on the doorknob and then slipping out. They stood on the other side of the door, preparing to trigger the panic.

"One…two…" Zoey counted. "Three!" She reached in, flipped the lights on, slammed the door, and they _ran_, hearing the not-so-faint sounds of three alarm clocks going of simultaneously on their highest volume, followed by three anguished yells.

Upon returning to their room, they found the footage to be absolutely priceless. From Michael's shocked, cream-covered face to James frantically stumbling around in the brightness to Logan getting caught up in toilet paper and falling out of his top-bunk in a Chase-like move, their mission was considered by all three to be a Success.

All pranked-out, the girls collapsed upon their sleeping bags once more. Now it was time for something a wee bit quieter—usually. Something no sleepover would be complete without…Truth or Dare.

**And so passes the third hour! Which prank/prank did you think was funniest? I apologize for my random Spanish words—and no, I'm not translating! If you really wanna know, look it up yourself. ;) Hint—I recommend Google Language Tools to get the gist of it. Next chapter is Zoey's POV again. Please, please review and oh!—don't miss Chasing Zoey tonight!**


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